Pretty, Pretty Jewels
by Clarenova
Summary: After Mandos and damnation, how can anyone expect all the elf lords and ladies in Aman to get along perfectly? One day of mayham is all they need... Over pretty, pretty jewels.


::Pretty, pretty jewels:: 

Disclaimer: All is not mines! All is not mines! 

A/N: When all is said and done in Valinor, and all elves released from their time in Mandos, it cannot be expected that peace is always kept... Is AU-ish, out of Canon, and has more or less no plot. Just a scrap of humour relief for me. 

* 

Ereinion Gil-Galad sighed as he sat in the middle of the Library of Aman. Many of the released elves from Mandos had come to converse and generally have a nice, civil time that day, but the conversation was getting a bit too dull for the High King's liking. Feanor was manacled to a corner, mumbling to himself and basically being insane and rabid, while Amrod and Amras were parading around with Elladan and Elrohir, all four wearing the same outfits, confusing all who did not know them too well by shifting positions every so often. Suddenly, a conversation of interest caught his eye. Idril sat in a corner, discussing names with Galadriel. 

'It is somewhat annoying when one has too many names, Artanis.' Galadriel nodded sagely, motioning to Arwen, who came over. The Undomiel quickly warmed up to the subject. 

'Take Aragorn for example. Elessar, Strider, Telcontar, Aragorn, Estel... You would think that one or two would suffice.' Gil-Galad grimaced, deciding that that conversation was not all that interesting after all. Elrond was perched on a chair next to him, reading and generally being antisocial to the extreme when Earendil suddenly stormed in, illuminating the room with the bright light emanating from the silmaril upon his brow. 

'Sorry that I'm late, but Arien would not let me go.' Feanor's ramblings in the corner got considerably more violent. Earendil sent him a dark look. Maglor looked impassively at the silmaril while pulling a drooling and semi-possessed Maedhros back. 

'Brother, repeat after me. You do not want to start another war over a pretty little jewel.' Maedhros did not seem to notice. Celebrimbor promptly smacked him across the head. Maedhros was startled out of his reverie, shaking his head, temporarily stunned. Curufin patted his son's back appreciatively. 

'There you go, you're learning.' The Twins came over. Amrod stared at the jewel. 

'Such a pretty, pretty thing.' Elladan proceeded to poke him in the ribs. 

'That _pretty, pretty_ thing caused my family much grief, including my grandmother throwing herself off a cliff and turning into a seagull of all things.' Elwing nodded from the side, sighing wearily. 

'Do you know how annoying it is? Every day, twitter tweet chirp to mindless birds all around you. Not the most stimulating of things.' Earendil comforted his wife. 

'At least you do not have to sail a ship up in the middle of nowhere for hours on end. Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset. The monotony!' Suddenly, Varda's voice echoed in the library. 

'Shut up, Gil-Estel.' Nerdanel had to cough to disguise her amusement before adding her two cents to the argument. 

'Ah, but the family of Feanor suffered too,' There, all seven sons nodded. 'Nerdanel! Bring me this! Nerdanel, look at this shiny jewel! Nerdanel, let's have another son! As if one or two were not enough, Feanor just had to go have _seven_!' Maedhros grimaced, patting his mother on the back and speaking of his own sorrows. 

'There were years where I had baby brothers spitting and vomiting all over me. First Maglor, then Caranthir, then Curufin,' There Celebrimbor thwacked his uncle on the head again, much to Curufin's chagrin, 'Ow, then Amrod and Amras.' Maglor was quick to join his brother. 

'And Earendil's line gave the Feanorian line trouble enough. Elrond and Elros, terror on their own.' Maglor screwed up his face and made a squeaky imitation of young Elrond's voice. 'Ooh, Maglor, Maglor tell me how you sing that nice song with the interesting words!' Elrond suddenly ceased being antisocial and threw himself at Maglor, had it not been for Ereinion stopping him. 

'But you gave them up after a while. Then it all came down to their uncle: Me. Then it was 'Ereinion, how do you read _this_ book or _that_ scroll.' or 'Ereinion, how to do you swing that spear?'' Elrond changed his plan of attack and went instead for Gil-Galad's head, but Fingon pulled him back before Elrond could murder his son. 

'At least you have decent uncles, Elrond, look at me. I have Feanor as mine.' The rattling of manacles increased again. Maedhros took hold of Elrond and steered him away from Fingon. 

'Your uncle, Elrond,' said Maedhros, while eyeing Fingon, 'is indeed faithful, faithful to the point where he chops his cousin's hand off.' Fingon shrugged nonchalantly. 

'It was your hand or your life.' 

'My line of cousins is much lacking. I have a half crazed son of Aredhel and Eol to be mine.' Maeglin glowered at him, before returning to staring at the wall while speaking. 

'At least my bloodline kept clear of the Edain.' Idril slapped him, hard, and began raving. 

'That's because _you_ were the last of that line.' Celebrindal hugged Tuor. Celeborn sighed. 

'All families here seemed to have been plagued by one jewel or another: Nenya, Narya, Vilya, Silmarilli.' Thranduil sent Galadriel and Elrond nasty looks, envious of their possession of Rings of Power. Cirdan chose that moment to slip into the background, fiddling with his own, oft forgotten, ring. 

'But not I. The line of Oropher never had any magical jewels to aid or degrade it.' Next to Thranduil, Legolas Greenleaf coughed discreetly, before muttering in a stage whisper. 

'Maybe that is because it did not take magical jewels to corrupt the line. Plain, shiny ones were good enough.' Thranduil glared at his son. 

'Quiet, Greenleaf Greenleaf.' Legolas took off, hiding behind Luthien while cursing his father's naming skills. The maiden in question made a dramatic sigh, fluttering his eyelashes. 

'Indeed, the Eldar are cursed for their want of bright, glittering things,' Tinuviel looked balefully at Elu Thingol, who was playing a hand clapping game with Dior, as he had nothing else to do, 'like my father.' Thingol glared at his daughter. 

'I had to fund you, girl! Everyday, just out in the forest, dancing and dancing all day, just dance, dance, dance, never doing anything useful. Then, you drag home a scruffy _adan_ and say you want him!' Maeglin smiled appreciatively and the two went over to stare at the wall together. Orodreth, Angrod and Aegnor were sitting in a corner, the Forgotten Elf Lords. Orodreth began their lament. 

'At least you all had your moments of limelight. The three of us rarely had anything more than a 'Oh, siblings of Finrod.' Finrod Felagund smiled smugly at the side. Elrond sighed at their side, sitting on Maglor's chest and prodding the son of Feanor, who was by then out cold for the pummelling Elrond had given him. 

'Sometimes, it is _good _to be forgotten. My bloodline was paid so much attention that I skipped a generation on Elwing's side. Now Galadriel is my mother-in-law, grand-aunt _and_ great-grand-aunt all at the same time.' Glorfindel concealed a choked cough that sounded like the word "interbreeding", while he, Ecthelion and various other bachelors lounged around at the sides. Indis piped up from the corner. 

'All this grief, for jewels or for greed?' The room fell silent, save for Goldberry going "merry dol ding dolly merry" to herself in a corner. Feet were shuffled, gazes were locked on the ground and there was a general atmosphere of "This jewel? Oh_ this_ jewel. The jewel I chased for years and years and murder for. Oh, just this _jewel!_ There you go, you can have it." Suddenly, Feanor broke free of his manacles and pounced on Earendil. Elrond howled as he saw his father going under. 

'This is war!' The Library soon spiralled down to becoming a battle-field. Elrond, Earendil, Elwing, Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, Galadriel and Dior fell upon the Seven Sons of Feanor and Feanor himself, while Turgon chased Eol and Maeglin around like a mad-man. Melian was shooting sparks all over the place, residue of her Maia lineage, while Luthien was scolding her father for all his faults. Olwe was forming an army to march against the Feanorians, of which constituted of the entire line of Finarfin, Finarfin and Earwen included. It was all looking to be a replay of Alqualonde again when Manwe stepped in. 

The room froze. Elrond dropped the book he had been using to beat Amrod up with, and Feanor let go of the silmaril, his hands on fire. Luthien removed her finger from Thingol's chest, and Melian returned to her normal colour. Manwe sighed, plucking all shiny, sparkly, glittery or distinctly jewel-like objects from the elves and Man (Tuor). 

'You all never learn, do you?'   



End file.
